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From:
Subject: [FOLKLORE FAMILY] Re: Chicken Soup for the Soul: Home Delivery
Date: Tue, 3 Apr 2001 11:49:21 EDT



The Heart Remembers
=20
"The mother she remembers is the mother she will become."
These words filled my head on the morning I became a mother=20
for the first time. And as they placed Kaley in my arms, a warm,=20
wriggling bundle with wide blue eyes, I'd vowed to myself that I=20
was going to be the very best mother, the kind of mother that I=20
did remember: loving, patient, ever-calm and placid. My whole=20
life had pulsed with love, and as I stroked my baby's tiny head,=20
felt her turn her face to nuzzle my finger, I vowed to her, "You=20
will know only love, little one. Only that."
I remembered the quote again two weeks later, at 3 a.m. as=20
I paced in circles with my screaming, colicky newborn in my=20
arms. At that moment, however, the words were hardly a comfort.=20
After all, what baby would want to remember me as I was then -=20
sleep-deprived, anxious, patience worn as sharp and thin as a=20
razor blade.
And despite my earlier vow, I sure wasn't feeling love. I=20
wasn't feeling much of anything. I was numb, weak with fatigue,=20
trying to do everything by myself even though my husband and=20
mother were asleep just down the hall. I shushed Kaley and=20
cradled her closer, but she just kicked and flailed and wailed=20
even louder. Suddenly I couldn't stop the tears. I sank to the=20
floor in the darkened living room, lay her in my lap, and sobbed=20
into my hands.
I don't know how long I stayed that way, but even though it=20
seemed like hours, it couldn't have been more than a few=20
minutes. Through a haze of tears, I saw the light go in the=20
hallway, silhouetting the figure of my mother as she shrugged=20
into her housecoat. Soon I felt her hand on my shoulder.
"Give me that baby," she said.
I didn't argue. Defeated, I just handed the screaming=20
bundle over and crawled to the sofa, where I curled into a tight=20
ball.
My mother murmured into Kaley's ear, and with an ease borne=20
of decades of practice, shifted her to her shoulder. Eventually=20
the crying turned to sniffles, the sniffles to hiccups, and in=20
half an hour, I heard only muffled baby snores.
I felt relief, but no real peace. What kind of mother=20
couldn't calm her own child? What kind of mother didn't even=20
want to try? I watched Mama ease into the rocking chair, watched=20
her start the slow rhythm that I knew had lulled me to sleep on=20
countless nights, and all I felt was a sense of desperate,=20
exhausted failure.
"I'm a terrible mother," I muttered.
"No, you're not."
"You don't understand." Fresh tears thickened at the corner=20
of my eyes "Right now, I don't even like her. My own baby."
My mom laughed softly. "Well, she hasn't been very likable=20
today, now has she? But you stayed with her through it all.=20
You've bounced her, rocked her, walked her. And when none of=20
that worked, you just held her and kept her close."
I sat up and wrapped my arms tightly around my knees. "But=20
all I feel inside is frustration and anger and impatience. What=20
kind of mother is that?"
My mom didn't reply immediately. She just looked down at=20
the sleeping baby in her arms. But her face grew thoughtful, and=20
when she spoke, her voice had a faraway, wistful quality. "I=20
remember all those," she said softly. "Especially the last one.=20
After you were born, I used to pray for patience. Cried and=20
begged for it." She looked at me, a half-smile on her face.=20
"Still haven't gotten it yet."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "But, Mama, that's=20
the thing I remember most about you. No matter what, you never=20
lost your cool. You somehow managed to keep everything going all=20
at once."
She had. No matter how many brownies needed baking at the=20
last minute, no matter how many science project posters needed=20
coloring, my mother always came through. Always calm. Always=20
serene. As a nurse, she worked irregular hours, but at every=20
play and every recital I was in, even if she didn't make the=20
opening curtain, I could always count on seeing a familiar=20
figure in white slipping into the darkened auditorium.
This was the mother I remembered, the mother who made every=20
moment matter. The mother who never behaved the way I felt right=20
then.
"I could always count on you," I said. "Always."
But to my surprise, she rolled her eyes. "That may be the=20
way you remember it, but all I remember is being pulled in seven=20
directions at once. You and your brother, your father, the=20
people at work. They all needed me, but I never had enough time=20
to be there for everybody."
"But you were always there!"
She shook her head. "Not like I wanted to be, not as often=20
or for as long. And so I prayed for patience, so that I could=20
make the best of the time we did have. But you know what they=20
say. God doesn't send you patience. He just sends you moments=20
that make you practice being patient, over and over again."
She looked down at Kaley. "Moments like this one."
I watched the two of them, and then suddenly I understood:=20
Memories don't rest in our brains, which are apt to record the=20
details wrong anyway, but in our hearts. My mom and I didn't=20
recall my childhood in exactly the same way, but we did share=20
the one thing that did matter.
We both remembered the love.
I moved from the sofa and sat at the foot of the rocking=20
chair. We stayed that way for a while - my mother, my daughter,=20
and I. And even though the crying started again at sunrise, for=20
that golden, still moment, as I sat at my mother's feet and lay=20
my hand on the soft hair of my daughter, I breathed a silent=20
"thank you."
If Kaley somehow remembers that night, I hope she will=20
recall only the instinctive love that kept me by her side=20
through it all.
=20
By Tina Whittle
Reprinted by permission of Tina Whittle (c) 2000, from Chicken=20
Soup for the Mother's Soul 2 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor=20
Hansen, Marci Shimoff and Carol Kline.
>>


=B3=A4=B3=B4`*:=BB=A7=AB^i^MISSI ^i^=AB:*=B4`=B3=A4
"I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when
our wings have trouble remembering how to fly."
Richiele 'Marie ICQ #63829109 (Missi)
=BB=A7=AB:*=B4`=B3=A4=B3=B4`*:=BB=A7=AB:*=B4`=B3=A4=
=B3=B4`*:=BB=A7=AB:*=B4`=B3=A4=B3=B4`*:=BB=A7=AB =20

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